


Strike, Dear Mistress, And Cure His Heart

by MissMaxime



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: BDSM elements, Belts, Beth/OMC, Biting, Breathplay, Choking, F/M, Light BDSM, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post S3, Rio/OFC, Spanking, Unestablished FWB, mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMaxime/pseuds/MissMaxime
Summary: “Do you trust me?” he asks. And he can see it, her mouth dropping open to say something that will wreck everything. “With this?”Her mouth closes again, her eyes searching his as she assesses this situation. It doesn’t take her long though.And then she turns, bracing her hands against the lockers.---Beth and Rio run into each other in the elevator of the same apartment complex, both having had not the greatest of nights. When they very maturely decide to resolve some pent-up frustrations from the night before, it opens a Pandora's Box of a whole lot of other issues.Originally written for prompt #5 of the Good Girls Kinkfest:Beth and Rio include BDSM elements in their sex life. Sub/dom; spanking; choking; biting; orgasm control
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 8
Kudos: 102





	Strike, Dear Mistress, And Cure His Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fei/gifts).



> For Fei / @lanafannabanana ! I had a lot of fun exploring these kinks, especially since I don't usually write a lot of them, or at least not all of these together in one fic. I hope it's angsty enough for you, that was probably more challenging to be honest! Thanks so much for submitting this prompt. I wish I could have delivered it sooner, but y'know, life.

Rio had previously considered what the closest circle to hell might be. Getting held down by his cousins on his thirteenth birthday and getting sent out into his own party with clown make-up, wearing nothing but his sister’s tutu. Shitting himself on the bus to the state baseball championship – look now he knows there is no medium rare when it comes to chicken, but it took a hard lesson and an unfortunately very hot day for him to learn so. Oh, and every time he set foot in a certain spa store, he felt a tug from a whirlpool inside his gut that feels like it’s sending him straight to Hades.

But at the moment the happy tune from the elevator he’s occupying is doing a great job of being the soundtrack to an absolute nightmare of a night. It’s still kind of coming back to him in ruthless flashes that his half-drunk brain has no capacity to process at all. He tried to find some, any, kind of painkiller in – what was it again? Larissa, with close to 90% certainty – her cabinets, only to come up with none. And as tempting as it sounds, he wasn’t going to do any lines from that broken off rear view mirror on her kitchen countertop – he still had some standards.

You know what, it was partly his own fault for accepting that date in the first place. Some hipster place that had them play disco boules and that serves drinks in giant fishbowls with a million colorful straws. He had been drunk before round three, and there had been an excruciating seven rounds of throwing balls in sandpits, and he can already feel a good number of grains of sand never left his shoes. Should just toss them anyway – burn his whole outfit probably. He’s not even sure where the waft of alcohol and cigarettes ends and the vanilla tangerine deodorant he did find in one of her cabinets begins.

It’s fine.

When the door pings on the tenth floor he’s a bit confused, he’s pretty sure he didn’t mess up the singular task of ordering this thing to go linea recta to the lobby.

“Great, it’s you.”

No. He’s not doing this, and he presses the button to close the door in complete reflex.

It’s too late, she’s got her hand blocking the door from closing – and Rio feels like he now really scorched himself on the fire dripping from the mouths of hell.

“Just shut up, okay.”

His stupid brain only now registers how shit her voice sounds. All broken and raspy like – okay, and he hasn’t heard his own voice yet, chances are slim it’s anything better, and that girls’ mouthwash was atrocious, it tastes like a chloric rat died in his mouth – but still, like her night hasn’t gone a whole lot better than his has. And if that doesn’t open a whole window of new possibilities.

“Yeah, where you going?” Oh, wow, it sounds like puberty all over again – if that included a baptism of swallowing a whole ashtray. “Little morning stroll?”

Beth whips her head around – surprisingly smart covered by some giant sunglasses. It’s not like he can’t see the yellowish tint of her skin, or those remnants of mascara lining the baggies under her eyes. And if he’s not mistaken, he can smell a whiff of AXE cookies & leather he nearly murdered Cisco over for getting that stank all over his car. Crap, his car is still parked at the dumb bar, he should really get someone to fetch it for him.

“Are you going to push that button or what?” she speaks too deliberately, pulling the glasses down a bit.

He does push it, but he does keep looking at her too. Her dress, black but not without her trademark flowers, with a broken zipper on the back. She’s trying to hide it with some kind of scarf, but he can spot that from a mile away. It’s a little shorter, her cleavage dipping a little lower than he’s used to seeing her in. Hair, well, looking like he styled it himself in a public bathroom.

“Do they have a gym here?” she asks impatiently.

Like fuck as if he knows all the ins and outs of inner-city apartments around here. Granted, he’s likely more acquainted with the area than she is, but he’s not feeling terrible enough to go on autopilot for her as if he’s some kind of navigation system. “Boy didn’t make you sweat enough last night?”

She huffs and pulls her scarf a little tighter around her shoulders. “I can’t go home like this,” she snaps. Yeah, she’s probably right about that. He doesn’t know if her sister or that dumbass ex of hers is sitting her brood, but either way that sounds like a nightmare to come home to. Speaking of – oh, fuck, his phone died – he should really let his mom know he will be late picking up Marcus.

“Do you have a power bank or something?” he asks before thinking.

Her hands circle possessively around her clutch. “Do you know a place I can shower?”

ooo

“Oh my god,” she moans in a tone he’s not unfamiliar with. But it’s not him getting her wet, it’s the shower of the gym he owns two blocks from the apartment complex. Look, he could have been a total dick about it, but in truth he saw the comedy in all this. Not that he’s too keen on her-

“So, how did your date go?” she asks, in that annoying innocent tone. There’s a wall between the showers, he can only see her from the shoulders and up. But he doesn’t need to see her face to know that big blue-eyed shit that goes along with that type of questionnaire.

It’s not like they’re not good with each other nowadays. In fact, the main reason he ended up on his Tinder date anyway is because Mick and Cisco felt like they were getting a bit too amical. Which is vastly untrue. Sure, they had fucked two times – three? Three if you count that time he went down on her when they had a flat retrieving some product – but that was not even close to amical, it was, it just happened. Nothing more.

“Was fine.”

Her laugh resonates too loudly through the empty locker room. “Oh, that’s why you were sneaking out close to six?”

“Didn’t want to wake her up.”

“You tell yourself that,” she chuckles.

“Do you want shampoo or not?” he says, trying to avert her focus. She grabs it from his hand, quickly opening the lid and squirting some onto her hand.

“C’mon! Don’t be embarrassed,” she says, applying the foam to her hair. “I’ll tell you about my date?” she offers. And for now he’s going to blame the alcohol still inhabiting his system, but alright he’ll take the bait. Because why the hell not.

“She’s an actor slash mixologist.”

Elizabeth represses her amusement by sucking in her bottom lip. “Unlike a mom slash anything, which I know is your usual type.” He’s not amused by any of that. And okay he’s now starting to think Mick and Cisco might have a point after all – which he will never tell them, they have enough ammunition as it is – ammunition that’s very naked showering beside him.

“Yeah, how 'bout your date? Some tropical surprise or some pasty divorced dad?”

She starts rinsing her hair of the bubbles. “Yes, a divorced dad. But according to his 23 and me he’s at least one-eight Cherokee, so he feels Black Lives Matters deep inside his soul. His words, not mine.”

At least she sees the ridiculousness in this whole situation.

“Are you going to elaborate on that bite mark on your chin?” she asks.

He instinctively reaches out to the spot, and right. His mind flashes back to stumbling into his date's apartment, how they kissed sloppily against her front door before she started using her teeth – like everywhere, before he pushed her off him. Because that bite fucking hurt – and he had a brief flight or fight moment, but she tore her dress off in a fucking feral way and look – he’s only human.

“Like you haven’t torn me up before.”

“That’s not the same!” she immediately balks. “And stop trying change the subject.”

He’s, well, at the bare minimum amused by this conversation. “Fine, she was a mediocre date. Fun but dumb. Had a banging body. Anything else?” he rushes out.

That mischievous look on her face means nothing good. “How she fuck?”

He’s glad he still has some wits lined up. “Jealous?”

It doesn’t seem to faze her even one bit. “Just curious.”

And he’s thrown back into hours before, while this chick with her purple lipstick tried sucking him off with too much teeth. Again. He was only half hard sitting on her laundry littered couch, and look he can pretend he’s not bothered by that, but he is, was, still is to be honest. It wasn’t even that she was terrible at it, it just wasn’t, what he wanted. She kept looking at him like he was something to be admired, or something dangerous. Not like--

“Yeah, I bounced close to six. What else you wanna know?”

“I don’t know,” she replies. But he does know. She wants details. She wants to know if they’re better than her.

“How he fuck you then?” It’s a lame reply, but look, it’s not like she’s giving him more than that she also sneaked out at the crack of dawn.

She smiles shyly at that. “Well, I didn’t put part of my dress into that sink for soaking for nothing,” she tries to say with a lifted spirit. “He tried though.”

His brain is going all kinds of ways with that confession.

“Good cuddler, though,” she follows up, averting her gaze. And, right, it’s not like they really had an opportunity to really do that. No opportunity he had given her recently. Even after they fucked in the coatroom at Cisco’s wedding, they had kind of weirdly hugged and she had gone home, and he went back to the party. But he could have asked--

“How ‘bout you?”

Rio turns the shower off, feeling a little more like a human again, and wraps a towel around his lower half. “No cuddling, but fine lay.” He’s not telling the truth, and he thinks she knows it.

“Don’t give me that bull.”

She’s turned off the shower too by now, wrapping one of those soft white towels around herself but still looking at him. She still has that translucent glow to her skin, but it feels more alive. Likely feeling the same level of humanity again as he does – which is still pretty shabby, but a whole lot better than how he felt half an hour ago. 

Even if he wanted to, he can’t help but imagine how her date went really. If she went out for dinner or went to see the sand sculpture exhibition downtown. Can’t imagine this was the first date she let him take her on, doubts she would go off suburbia-script of sleeping with someone earlier rather than later. Did he make her feel normal? It’s only a small tinge, but he feels a small vibrance of annoyance spreading at the thought of her being shut in a box again. It’s not who she is, and he can tell her that, but he won’t tell her who to be with –

“You still got some make-up on your happy trail,” he hears her say. And when turns around, she’s no longer next to him in the other stall, but perched on the bench right in front of his shower. He drops his hand, rubbing where he expects the lipstick stain to be, eyes never leaving her face, even when her eyes drop down.

“What do you want, Elizabeth?” he says, hand dropping lower.

She licks her lips in response, before looking back up at him. “I’m still horny.”

“That’s a you-problem,” he replies.

Her face falls with disappointment, but he can’t exactly help how her cute pout makes the blood in his veins pump a lot harder, especially to a very specific area between his legs.

“Show me.”

It’s like he flipped a switch, but she’s going agonizingly slow non the less. Her hands finding the knot of the wrapped towel, untying it utmost deliberately before finally dropping it to the bench, leaving her stark naked in front of him. He follows a few drops of water sliding from her neck down to valley of her breasts, before they slide down even more and get lost between the small patch of hair between her legs.

“ _Show me_ ,” he says again.

She smirks now, accomplished, yet compliantly lets her legs fall open for all of him to see. Her glistening pussy alluring, and even more when she licks her fingers and slowly starts stroking herself.

Rio swallows hard, his fried brain trying to make sense of this whole situation.

“Come here.”

Her smile twists into something brave, claiming a victory without saying a word. She rises to her feet and takes one, two steps forward.

“No.”

She halts, looking at him expectantly.

“On your knees.”

He takes too much joy in the puzzled expression on her face. If she wants it so bad, she can go prove it to him.

Elizabeth takes a few seconds to recompose herself, but lowers herself to the floor eventually, on her hands and knees. He can tell the tiles are slippery under her wet limbs, but she looks back at him defiantly. And he’s not sure if he can get any harder, but his body sure is trying as she starts crawling towards him. Really putting on a show for him, her curves swaying as she seductively closes the distance between them.

When she reaches him, she sits back on her haunches, giving him a full view of her chest and perky pink nipples. “Anything else?” she asks cheekily – too cheeky for his taste.

His hand drops to her cheek, and she leans into it like a cat wanting to be petted. He drags her lower lip down with his thumb, as he tilts her chin up. “Want me to go soft?” he asks, letting his fingers caress her face.

She shakes her head faintly.

Before she has time to fully finish that response his hand slides into her hair, and he grabs a full chunk of it in his fist. Drags her to her feet, laugh rumbling low in his throat as she stumbles to her feet, trying to keep up with the tempo he suddenly yanks her up with. Her wince is loud, but he has fucked her enough times by now to distinguish pain from pleasure.

“Nah, that’s not what you want,” he continues, spinning her around so he’s plastered against her back. His mouth finds its way to the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and he hears her gasp near to silent. His hand tightens in her hair, and the moan that escapes her lips is anything but repressed. “Hmm, good girl,” he murmurs against her neck.

She shivers against him, squirms a little – but he doesn’t want that, so he walks her closer to the wall, trapping her with his body.

“ _Please_ ,” she sighs, pushing her butt against groin.

He retaliates by biting her on the place on her neck – making her cry out and trash between him and the wall. He licks the sore spot, relishing in how visible he marked her.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, his free hand landing on her waist, stroking her soft and light as he makes his way down to her ass. “These other guys don’t know how to handle you?” he continues, grabbing her ass cheek. “I know what you can handle. You ain’t gonna break are you?”

When she doesn’t respond he smacks her, hard. The yelp that falls from her mouth makes his dick twitch against the cleft of her ass.

He can’t see her face, but he just feels that she’s smiling. “I’m tougher than I look,” she pants.

With that he spins her around, her eyes almost all pupil. And if those aren’t the pits of both hell and heaven, he doesn’t know what is. He drops his hand between her legs, making her suck in a large gulp of breath. As expected, his fingers slide through them with ease, has him humming appreciatively. “Nah, don’t close your eyes,” he says, as he sees her eyelids flutter.

Just to emphasize his point he pushes two fingers into her, making her widen her eyes instantly. “That’s it,” he says as he drops his forehead against hers, breathing her in. He adds another finger, circles her clit lazily with her thumb, feeling her walls contract around his digits. “Did he fuck you like this?”

She hums briefly in affirmation, before breaking into a moan as he curls his finger inside her.

“Did you come?”

Rio curls his fingers inside again when she doesn’t answer.

She pouts. “He thinks so.”

“Bad girl,” Rio chuckles as he removes his hand entirely from her.

Elizabeth slumps against the wall, moody and shooting him accusing looks. Her expression softens though, not insincere but he definitely doesn’t trust that quick switch. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asks him back, hand reaching out to cradle his chin. And he’s not gonna lie, how she says that makes something warm and exciting go off in his chest.

His eyes fall shut as he reminiscences the last time she touched him this soft. Not hidden in the coatroom, or in the back of the spa store, no _before_. 

“Don’t close your eyes,” she continues, as her hand circles his neck and she pushes her nails in, forcing him to open his eyes. “I know what you can handle,” she finishes, trailing her fingers on his thigh under the towel, then grabbing his sack and rolling it in her hand.

It takes all his self-control to not come all over her belly right there.

And look, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Nothing that’s going on right now was anywhere close to the plan at all. He’s not so completely deranged that he had any hope of going on a date with the girl from last night would wipe Elizabeth from his mental hard drive – hell, he had a tough time not picturing those plumb pink lips right in front of him when he was with his already faceless date – but he’s now finally starting to wrap his mind about the point Mick and Cisco might have had.

And yet, he doesn’t seem to care.

With a quick move he grabs her tight around the wrist, stopping her from continuing her ministrations. It seems to catch her off guard; a flash of worry shooting across her face.

He leads her out from under the shower, water from the both of them dripping onto the marble tiles of the locker room floor. His hand lets go of hers, sees it drop lamely to her side. It’s a bit enticing, he can’t lie, trapping her in the uncertainty of being close to ending this all together, or dragging her off into the abyss with him.

Her breath wavers as he bends his head down, lips only briefly brushing the damp skin of her collarbone, before dragging them down. It’s only for a second, but he can feel her let go of some pent-up tension, feels it coil inside of her again as he latches onto a taut nipple. Feels it both soft, yet hard inside his mouth as he sucks to make it painfully hard. Feels his own balls tighten as she whimpers as he bites the tight nub, but she doesn’t pull back.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, making his way to her other breast.

As he gives that nipple the same treatment, he walks her back towards the wooden lockers lined against the back wall. Walks a little too fast, making her stumble while she tries to keep up. He grabs her ass with one hand as she falls back against the wood with a thud; both keeping her upwards, but locking her against him too, trapping her.

Their previous trysts the past two months had all been rushed and fast, hidden in the shadows of dark hours. Nothing bright and early like this pure morning. Makes him want to drown in a haze of liquor and stupidity all over again, however the only cup of poison to drink here is her.

It's like she can sense him thinking about her, arching off the lockers, pushing her breasts into him even more, raking his teeth around her areola. It merely tempts him into sucking more of her into his mouth, before biting down into her white flesh again. He’s sure he’ll have her marked up by the end of this, and that thought is probably pleasing him more than it should.

He kisses his way down the valley of her breasts, sucking on her skin a little too long after every few inches, red patches appearing on her sternum while he makes his way all the way down.

“Turn around,” he orders, as he sinks down onto his knees.

Her discomfort is clearly written on her face.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. And he can see it, her mouth dropping open to say something that will wreck everything. “With this?”

Her mouth closes again, her eyes searching his as she assesses this situation. It doesn’t take her long though.

And then she turns, bracing her hands against the lockers.

“Hands on your back,” he says.

As she does so he reaches out to his jeans. Entangling the leather belt from its loops as he keeps his eyes locked on her backside. Her hands now laced together just above the swell of her ass. Waiting as he noisily gathers the belt and tosses his jeans across the room.

Her pants are soft yet audible for his trained ear. Erratic almost, as much as she tries to repress them. He smiles at her shudder as he drags the leather of his belt over her ass, reveling in how she absolutely tightens up in resisting to pull back.

Rio gets to his feet again, weaving the belt around her wrists, feels her relaxing a bit more. He leans into her, breath hot against her ear. “We can try that another time,” he croaks. Maybe when they’re more private, when they are more sober and have more time. He’ll really need to take his time with her to press that, to make it something worth both their while.

He spins her around again. With her skin already blemished with his bitemarks and hickeys, he can’t say he’s ever seen her more beautiful. Something fragile and warm shatters somewhere buried as he finally gives in and captures her lips. It’s hesitant, from her too, they haven’t kissed since – no, that’s not something to think about now. Her rapid increased breathing draws him back to her, even more as she bites his bottom lip.

“Nah,” he says, pulling back. It’s immediately fueling her impatience, her lip wobbling like a disgruntled little girl. Only he knows she’s not.

“How can I please you?” she says, with a tone that he’s not sure leans more towards sincerity or irony. “My king.”

And as much as he likes to think otherwise, that unspools something he thought impossibly knotted deep inside him.

He moves into her again, nudging her legs apart, lodging his thigh in between hers. His hand finds his way to her ass, and he motions her to ride his leg as he latches onto her mouth again. As soon as he feels how wet and ready she is for him he deepens the kiss, licking into her as she speeds up against him, chasing the release he denied her earlier.

A moan elicits from deep inside her throat, one that he swallows immediately as he pushes her into the wall behind her, imagines the iron locks and keys pressing into her back. Her rubbing gets too erratic and he can tell she’s getting close.

With a quick move he pulls away from her, leaving her flushed and heaving.

He walks back slowly until he feels the back of his legs hit the cushioned bench in the middle of the room. Sits down equally slow, never unlocking his eyes from her. “Come here,” he drawls.

Elizabeth pushes herself fully onto her wobbly legs. Her back straightens to nodoubtly stride towards him with the most confidence she can muster without hinting even a single sign of want or desperation.

He scooches up the bench, keeping an eye on her as he leans back, supporting himself on his underarms.

“Where?” she asks, making her way towards him.

The corners of his mouth tug upwards. “Up here,” he tells her, laying flat onto the bench.

“I swear, Rio, if you keep me hanging again,” she says, swaying one leg over him, planting her knees on either side of his head, twisting her wrists against the bonds of his belt.

He reaches out and roughly twists her nipple, making her cry out. “You’ll take what I give you.”

She swallows hard, and lowers herself further, keeping silent for a change.

It’s _so_ so tempting, to not do anything at all. To leave her hoovering a mere inch above him, to at one point see her legs start trembling, to eventually hear her sobbing above him, to see her drench her thighs and his face with her juices.

But he’s too lost to taste her again. It’s cruel to punish himself any longer just to enhance her agony.

While his thoughts are still coming to that decision his hands have already reached out to palm her ass cheeks, and he feels her slick warm lips slide over his own as she descends. It’s a good thing he has a tight hold onto her, because as soon as he sucks on her clit she instinctively pulls away. He murmurs disgruntled against her, almost stops, really – but she relaxes into him as he starts tonguing her hole. Fucking into her as she finds a pace to grind onto his face without losing balance.

“Lemme hear you, mama.”

It's like he opens the floodgates, moan after moan falling from her lips in rapid succession. But it’s not until he latches his mouth onto her clit again that he hears a loud wail rip from inside her, followed by a pinched mewl as he keeps licking her, pulling a smaller more restraint sound from her only seconds after.

She scoots back a little, keeping herself up, but leaning back onto his chest as she regains her breath.

He rubs her thighs with her hands, watching in awe as she comes to herself again. While she’s so distracted, he sneaks his hands around her and unwraps the belt from her wrists. It’s his every intention to toss it away, but she grabs his hand.

“We’re not finished,” she says, a whole other demeanor to her voice than just minutes before.

And they’re not, he has every intention of fucking her still.

She pulls the belt from his hand, devious look shining in the darkness of her eyes.

He watches her bend down and circle the belt around his neck, feeling a tingling rush creep all over his skin, setting it on fire. “Is that right?” he asks, challenging her, even if he’s fully cooperating.

“Let me handle this,” she tells him, reaching a hand behind her and stroking him.

His body roars yes, but his brain’s not scrambled enough to just give in.

Her spidey senses seem to latch onto this, and it has her move down his body. Sliding his hard cock between her folds. “Oh,” she says in that stupid cute voice again. “You don’t want it?”

Without thinking he reaches his hands to her thighs, but she bats them away.

“Tell me,” she says, her pace lazy and annoying.

Tightlipped he buckers against her, but she just moves with him.

She grabs the end of the belt, pulling the buckle tight against his larynx, making him gasp and gurgle at the same time.

“Yes,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a wheeze.

She loosens her rein, making him suck in a large breath as he feels his throat open up.

“I want it,” he emphasizes.

Her stupid smirk makes something hot snap inside his chest again. Yet those feelings depart as soon as she sinks down onto his painfully hard cock, making him groan. Even though he knows she’s drenched, it takes her a few seconds to adjust to him. Takes her sweet ass time before starting to move, taking him in to satisfy herself, and only her.

It's not like he doesn’t know what might follow, but he fucks into her anyway. Her brows furrow, and she wraps the belt around her hand, slowly tightening the pressure around his neck. “Did I tell you to move?” she asks – the hard line of her mouth tells him it’s no question he’s supposed to answer.

But that’s nothing that stopped him before. “Maybe don’t fuck me with that tight cunt of—” he's cut off from talking again when she tightens her belt around his neck again. She’s really pulling hard now, using it just a little, just enough, for leverage as she leans back.

He feels her tighten around his cock as she pulls the belt tighter too. Can feel his throat tightening, his lungs straining, and his vision spotting as he feels his hand unleashing a small little spasm. But she spots it, and she releases the pressure. His chest filling up with air as if he’s a drowning man surfacing, his body bucking into her past his control.

“Use your hands,” he pleads.

She puts a hand on his chest, challenging him with a look that fells all his resistances.

“Please,” he utters, broken.

Elizabeth leans forward, strokes the side of his face softly – a caress that feels out of place. But suddenly feels so right again as she tears the belt off him without any subtlety. And maybe it was better, the belt, forcing some distance between them. Now that she circles her hands around his neck, rubbing her hot damp hands on his inked skin – it’s so intimate he almost burns out of his body.

“Move,” she orders him, as she starts riding him again.

Yet he owes her – for trusting him when he asked for it. And there’s a lot of ways he’ll think of to punish her, but not here, not now.

So he does, grabbing her thighs harshly as he fucks up into her. And she meets him every time, hands circled around him, putting on just the right amount of pressure to make him see stars in the darkness, before pulling him back into the light again. And it’s when he’s granted another retour from the edge of the abyss to the bright torment hovering above him, he feels her spasm around him and tightening her grip on his neck in reflex. It’s that moment that has him push once, twice more into her before he’s spilling deep inside her.

She slumps against him, and instinctively his hand slides into her hair, pulling her into his chest as it rises and falls rapidly. Her breathing brushes his skin, and while it starts soothing and warm it fast turns chilly. While her body has stilled, he still feels her sped up heartbeat drumming into him.

The silence between them for minutes strikes harder than the belt could ever do.

“Can we postmate some breakfast burritos?” she asks, tracing an invisible pattern across his chest.

“You don’t wanna lay on top of me with my dick inside you all day?”

She chuckles lightly. Pushes herself up a bit and folds her arms over each other so she can rest her head on them. “I’m hungry,” she whines, soft blue eyes searching his dark ones. 

Before he can think better of it, his hand reaches out and pushes a few damp strands of hair back behind her ear. It’s unjust how she leans into his touch, sending a few traitorous sparks through his chest. “You’re horny, you’re hungry,” he recites with feigned annoyance. “What’s next?” he asks rhetorically.

Elizabeth looks back at him, content look on her face. Flushed, and wrecked, her neck messed up from how he bit down and sucked on her skin. 

All of a sudden it all feels wrong.

“Got some clothes laying around here?” she quickly follows up - as if she can feel their moment crumbling. And, look, he can’t. Just the thought alone of her wearing something that’s _his_ isn’t one he’s willing to entertain. It’s bad enough she’s feeling comfortable enough to not even flinch when he flexes a muscle, much less seeing her in something he chose to purchase. Not even considering the fact that he's sure at one point the gym will flood with early risers.

“Don’t wanna wear your cumdress again?” he snaps, meaner than she probably deserves right now.

She winces at that. Her arms move in a way he can now see the angry red marks his belt left on her wrists. His thumb finds its way to it, rubbing it firm but lightly. All the times before, he refrained from marking her up. Wanting desperately to avoid seeing anything on her skin, anything that would remind him – or worse, alert one of his guys – that he was indeed getting too close to her again. That he'd stay with her like this even after they said their goodbyes. His ghost still lingering on her when she’d lay in that bed in her big house all alone. 

It's like she knows he’s drifting off again, because she shocks him back to her as she clenches around him. “Dirty move," he grunts.

They lock eyes again, and while his brain’s all mushy because of a drunk night out, or lack of sleep, or whatever happened just now – he feels something finding purchase inside him that should be both calm and content, yet it's awfully frightening. His inability to get on grasp on it enraging him more than anything else.

He sits up, but she circles her arms around his shoulders, unwilling to let go. 

Everything rushes in to suffocate him. Steam still hanging around the locker room, her hot body still pressed against him. Then she’s pressing her lips against his again, nipping at his bottom lip, desperately seeking entrance. And for the brief seconds it takes him to sort his thoughts he gives in, lets her lick into his mouth, feels her breasts against his chest as she crawls into his every pore. 

He puts a hand against her shoulder and pushes her back. “Yeah, my boy’s gonna be here soon to open shop.”

It’s unfair she even lets him see it, the way something fractures inside of her. 

He slides out from under her, leaving her sitting on the bench as he makes his way to his locker. It’s not a gym he frequents, so rummaging through the contents of it he finds some sweatpants with the tags still on, and a hoodie he can’t remember buying - it’ll do. When he whips around to give it to her, she’s all up in his face. 

“No.”

What.

“ _No_ ,” she repeats when he refrains from answering. Frazzled in a way he doesn’t remember ever seeing her face twist into, not even when she lashed out over him having that girl killed. “You don’t get to do all these things to me and just--” she trails off, looking away. 

And what things? “Yeah? Wasn’t you just opening your legs to me? Begging me to fuck you? Pinning me down to get off cuz the next boring as shit guy--”

Look, he prides himself on being able to read her well, more than anyone else maybe. But nothing in him is prepared when she flat handedly strikes him across the face.

Moments pass in slow motion as her glare morphs into something mortified. 

“That’s not,” she starts, choking up. It takes her a few seconds to collect herself, but when she finds his eyes again he sees it. That’s not what she’s talking about. 

If only the sting in his cheek overruled the one inside his chest. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says, thrusting the heap of clothes in her hands. “You should go.”

He pretends not to hear her sniffle as he makes his way to the stall. Drowns any sound of her out of his space as he turns on the water. Blurring her vision away as the steam starts filling the room again. Intends to scrub himself raw to forget about her lips, her wanton cunt, her fingers that keep insisting on wreaking carnage on his body – both the terrible and the terribly wanted. 

Yet when he thinks about flushing out all the conflict rushing through him about what he feels about her, all he wants is to disappear with her.

So when he hears her wet feet nearing him behind his back, he should have known. She never does listen. It’ll be one unholy mess, but he pulls her with him under the scorching water. Finding her lava hot mouth again with his as he hikes her up against the wall. He’s not sure of any of this, but one thing he’s certain of is that if he falls into the darkness, she sure as hell is going under too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [@MissMaxime](https://missmaxime.tumblr.com/)


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